


Watched by every human love

by burkesl17



Series: When it counts [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, discussion of mental health issues, the domestic violence took place in the past and is not between Victor and Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burkesl17/pseuds/burkesl17
Summary: Yuri and Victor go for tea with Victor's mother. It's painful for everyone.





	Watched by every human love

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Mikimoo for another very helpful beta!
> 
> There is a reference in this story to young Victor dressing like a character called Cheburashka from an old Russian cartoon. For those who don't know what this looks like, here is a picture to give you a full sense of how adorable that would be:
> 
>  
> 
> This story is a sequel to When it Counts.
> 
> This story contains discussion of a character, who isn't Yuri, who might have some mental health problems and the way this has affected other characters in the story. The character isn't actually diagnosed in the story and it is not intended to be a judgement on anyone in real life who may have experience something similar.
> 
> Title from WH Auden's poem 'Lullaby'.

Yuri stared up at the apartment block Victor’s mother apparently lived in and tried to hide his surprise, it wasn’t what he had expected. He knew very little about her, but he struggled to imagine anyone closely related to Victor living somewhere so average.

It was like any of the other large apartment blocks he’d seen from taxis and trains on the outskirts of Eastern European or Russian cities on his way between airports and competitions. It had been painted cream at some point in the past, although the paint was starting to peel now and looked slightly grimy. Washing hanging from balconies fluttered and snapped in the wind, some bored looking teenagers were kicking a soccer ball around on a patch of grass, and a couple of younger kids stared at them as they rocked back and forwards on the swings.

“I’ve offered to buy her somewhere nicer,” Victor said. “Several times actually, but she insists on living here.”

“Was it where you lived as a child?” Yuri asked, as they walked up to the door. Victor nodded once and briefly buried his hand in Makkachin’s fur before ringing the doorbell with a faded label next to it saying, ‘Nikiforova”.

There was a long pause and Yuri glanced up at Victor before a crisp voice came over the speaker and snapped, “Yes?”

Victor replied in Russian and took Yuri’s hand as the door buzzed open. 

“The elevator is out again,” Victor said apologetically before pulling him gently up the stairs. There was a pervasive smell of cooking in the corridors, and the occasional blast of music or talking on a radio as they walked up to the fifth floor. Yuri could feel his nerves getting worse with every step.

He wasn’t sure about meeting Victor’s mother. On the one hand he was desperately curious to meet her, this woman who he’d slowly come to realise was very important to Victor, and must have been a big part of his life at one point. But on the other hand she’d taken ages to call Victor after the mess about Yurio in the press, and Victor’s eyes got tired and tight on the very rare occasions he mentioned her. His general silence about her was possibly more telling than any words could have been anyway.

Yuri wasn’t sure he wanted to meet a woman who had hurt Victor that much.

They finally reached the right door and Victor raised his hand to knock, and then paused awkwardly with his hand still up. Yuri grabbed clumsily at his other hand and squeezed his fingers as Victor turned to look at him, surprised. Yuri nodded, wishing he had time to say he was there for him, that they could leave if Victor needed to, but Victor was already rapping on the door and Yuri could hear light footsteps coming towards them. 

The woman who opened the door was not what Yuri was expecting. She was much shorter than both of them, with steel grey hair cut in a severe bob and large dark eyes. He remembered she had been a ballerina, and you could tell from the graceful way she moved as she reached up to kiss Victor. Her hands clasped his shoulders hard, but her lips barely brushed his cheeks as he bent down towards her.

“Mama,” Victor said softly, and very carefully kissed her back. He straightened up and pushed Yuri forward slightly. “This is Yuri.”

“Hello Yuri, I am Irina,” she said in slow English and held out her hand. He took it slowly, their carefulness making him cautious too and he replied in faltering Russian, saying how nice it was to meet her.

Victor smiled at his attempt and walked into the flat, Makkachin gambolling after him. Yuri followed them into a dark, narrow hallway and then a sitting room that made him blink his eyes, overwhelmed. 

His first impression was pink. The walls were pink, one covered in wallpaper patterned with blowsy, pink roses. The squashy faded sofa was pink, and the rug in front of an electric fire was pink.

But blocking a lot of the pink, were the pictures of Victor. The sheer amount of pictures on the walls put Yuri’s old bedroom to shame. Victor on the ice, his signature sprawling across his body; Victor carefully cut out of pages of magazines; Victor in actual photographs, crammed together on top of a dresser and around the television. 

He looked at the real Victor who sinking into a pink armchair and who shrugged, with a slightly embarrassed smile, “I meant to ask her to take a few down.”

“I would not.” Irina paused just outside the room and asked slowly, like she was weighing every word, “Would you like tea?” 

“Yes please,” Victor said, and Yuri agreed, nodding his thanks. She walked lightly down the corridor and Yuri finished shuffling into the room. He perched awkwardly on the edge of the sofa. The room was hot and stuffy and nothing like he expected, he'd expected coldness, possibly even hints of cruelty, not to be practically smothered in Victor.

Victor shrugged off his jacket and flung himself on the floor with Makkachin, ruffling the dog’s ears and carefully not looking at Yuri.

Yuri tried to think of something to say, but he couldn’t even find a way to begin. The electric fire was on and the room was incredibly warm, he ended up fussily folding his coat and scarf until Victor’s mother came back with a fancy silver tea set. Victor pushed himself back up onto his chair as she poured out the tea, and then they all sat there and sipped it in silence.

The tension built up in Yuri’s stomach as he sipped the tea too quickly and burnt his mouth. No one was saying anything and he was desperate to break the silence but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Sweat was beginning to prickle down his back in the heat and his fingers clenched too tight on the thin, delicate cup. 

Victor put his cup down, slightly too hard, the sound was jarring in the quiet and Yuri jumped, hot tea splashing on his hand.

“I’m going to skate next season. At least one more.”

She nodded slowly and said, “And coach?”

Victor grinned then, “It worked this season.” 

It had, just, to Yuri’s rather desperate relief. 

“You are working on new routines yet?”

It took a moment for Yuri to realise she was asking both of them. He glanced towards Victor who was shaking his head rather more forcefully than the question needed. Yuri wished they were sitting next to each other so he could hold Victor’s hand, maybe stroke his fingers over his palm, or lightly touch the veins in his wrist and see if Victor’s pulse was racing as nervously as his was.

“No, we’ll choreograph later in the year. We need to prepare for the ice shows now. And besides…” He turned and grinned at Yuri, a genuine, heart shaped grin that was the first flash of really Victor-like emotion he’d displayed since entering the apartment, “My new routines will be inspired by Yuri, they have to be perfect.”

“You always have to skate from the heart.” Yuri looked up quickly, she had sounded faintly disapproving. 

Victor stared at her, something wounded in his eyes, and picked up his cup again, looking down at the tea. His mother stared at Victor for a moment more, and then poured out more tea for herself and gestured at Yuri with the pot.

Yuri smiled helplessly and gave her his cup, they all drank more tea. The sweat running down his back was starting to pool at the bottom of his spine. He desperately wanted to ask if he could open the window or turn down the fire, but it seemed rude.

“I made cake,” Irina announced and suddenly stood up and left the room. Victor breathed out and also stood up, pacing to the window, then to the bookcase, and then back to the window in three long strides. Yuri reached out to him, but just as their hands touched, she was back and putting a yellow cake down in the middle of the coffee table.

Yuri squeezed Victor’s hand hard for a moment before they separated and sat back down. He’d forgotten how soft the sofa was and dropped back in an ungainly way, which had both Victor and his mother shoot him a quick glance. Victor’s eyes were laughing, but soft. Irina’s were completely unreadable. 

He could feel the blush spreading across his cheeks and to distract from it he tried to say in Russian, “The cake looks delicious.” But every Russian word for something tasting good failed him, he couldn’t remember a single one, and the sentence trailed off with Victor’s mother looking at him expectantly.

“His Russian really is improving,” Victor said, reaching over and squeezing his knee. “It’s already better than my Japanese was when I’d only been there five months.”

Their eyes met and Yuri suddenly remembered Victor that first night in Hasetsu, green robe sliding off his perfect shoulders and eyes bright as he ate katsudon, calling it, “Vkusno!”

Victor laughed and kissed his fingers, “Yes! Vkusno! That must be one of the first Russian words you learned.”

Yuri could only smile back and it was sound of the knife cutting through the cake and hitting the silver serving plate below that snapped them out of staring at each other.

“Only small slices,” Irina said, “You must keep your weight down even in the off season.” Yuri looked up at, slightly alarmed that she might know about his weight problems, but Victor was leaning over to pick up one of the small squares she’d cut. 

“We might Mama, but you can have a larger piece.” 

Victor was smiling at her as he popped the cake in his mouth in one go. But she frowned at him and said crisply, “I’m a woman in her fifties Victor. My figure does not maintain itself.”

Victor dropped his eyes, his mouth scrunching up the way it did when he felt guilty and Yuri took his own square of cake. He ate it in two bites, trying not to drop any crumbs. It was good, but very sweet and sticky. It got claggy in his mouth as he chewed slowly. Irina nibbled her cake neatly, and Victor picked at a stray thread on the end of his sleeve.

Yuri took another mouthful of tea to try and wash down the sticky cake, which he could imagine sitting like a rock in his stomach now. 

“I admired your free skate costume, Yuri.” 

“Oh?” He replied, a little too quick and high-pitched.

If she thought his reaction was strange, she at least didn’t show it. “Yes the…the balance between the over and under…sections? Sorry my English…”

“Your English is very good,” Yuri said rapidly, waving his hands at her. 

“Mama designs costumes for the St Petersburg ballet. She used to design mine too, sometimes. Including the one Yurio wore for Agape.”

“Really?” Yuri asked and she nodded.

“Though I did not make it so…” She waved a hand in front of her chest and Victor grinned. 

“I may have asked the costume maker to use a more sheer material than the one she was picturing.”

Yuri laughed slightly, Victor smiled at him and turned back to Irina. “I wanted to ask you something actually, about the costume for the new routine I’m working on for the ice show. It’s supposed to be quite silly and fun.”

She leant forward, a slight smile on her face for the first time, and in that smile Yuri thought he could see a resemblance between them at last. The conversation was obviously difficult in English though, and Yuri told them to speak in Russian. He tried to follow them, but it was too technical for him. Feeling deeply awkward again, he drank more tea, even though he wasn’t thirsty at all and tried not to fidget. 

Makkachin started to fuss, and Victor stood up quickly and said, “I need to take him out, be back in a minute.” He practically fled out of the door, pulling Makkachin behind him.

Yuri and Irina were left sitting together and Irina’s eyes fluttered shut for a second before she started collecting up the cups and plates. In the oppressive feeling room Yuri couldn’t face siting still and he got up stiffly, drifting over to the window first and then to the dresser covered in pictures of Victor. 

His eye was caught first by a picture of Victor beaming and joyfully holding up his gold model from the Turin Olympics to his face. But behind it was a picture of a small boy with blond hair, dressed in a costume that Yuri thought was probably supposed to be a snowflake. It was incredibly cute. Yuri reached for it and then couldn’t help the high pitched noise he made at the next picture. 

It was an even smaller Victor, still wearing ice skates and dressed in a fluffy, brown costume with huge ears on his head.

He picked up the picture and asked Irina, “Is he Cheburashka?”

She looked taken aback and said, “You know Cheburashka?”

“I find it helps learning a language to start with children’s cartoons or books, it’s simpler. Victor suggested I watch Cheburashka because it’s so cute.”

“People think it is.” She took the picture from Yuri and said, “This was the first costume I made for him.”

“He looks adorable, can I take a photo of it?”

As Yuri balanced the photograph on the coffee table, and hovered over it with his phone trying to get a good angle, Irina said, “He’s never introduced me to a boyfriend before.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that and settled on saying, “He’s never had a fiancé before.”

“No,” she replied. It didn’t sound like she was going to say anything else, so Yuri went back to fiddling with his phone. 

“He smiles at you for real. Not how he smiles at reporters, or fans, or me. He smiles for real at you.”

Yuri stared down at her, not sure what he could say. He didn’t feel like sharing his own feelings with her yet. Even as she picked up the picture of Victor, he wasn’t sure he trusted her exactly and he definitely didn’t understand her. 

Which was how Victor found them when he came back and snatched the picture out of Yuri’s hand.

“I can’t believe you have a picture of this up! How old was I? Six?”

“No, five.”

“Aww, I was cute.”

Yuri nodded at Victor who smiled and held the photo up to his face. 

“Take a picture of me with it, I’ll use it for the next throwback Thursday picture.”

Yuri smiled and took the photo, before sliding out to the bathroom.

He breathed out once he was out of the room. The bathroom was reassuringly plain white, modern looking, with the occasional blue tile. He wondered if Victor had had a hand in organising it, and took longer than he really needed to before heading back to the cramped, stuffy living room.

He was surprised when he got back to see Victor putting on his coat. He handed Yuri his and said quietly, “It’s time we were going.”

“Oh, okay.”

He got the sense Irina was herding them out of the door, although she didn’t touch them until Victor hugged her. Yuri saw her freeze for a moment, and her hands tightened on Victor’s shoulders before clearly pushing him away.

“Goodbye Victor, Yuri. I’ll see you in a few months.”

“I’ll call you,” Victor replied.

Yuri hesitated and held out his hand. Her face softened as she took it and said, “It was very nice to meet you, Yuri.”

“And you,” he replied in Russian, bowing his head to her slightly.

She watched them walk down the corridor and Victor started to rush down the stairs, practically running by the end.

He hit the doors open and breathed in deeply when they got outside, tipping his head back and running his fingers through his hair. Yuri watched him carefully and then Victor shook his head and said, “Do you mind if we walk back? It’s about an hour.”

“Not at all,” Yuri said. He tilted his head into the spring sunshine too and took Victor’s hand, “It’s a nice day.”

Victor squeezed his fingers, just a touch too hard, and said, “I always feel like I’m suffocating in there.”

Yuri waited to see if he was going to say anything more and reached up to brush his lips lightly across Victor’s cheek. “It was very warm.”

“And pink.”

“Yes, very, very pink.”

Victor didn’t say anything else for a while and the two of them walked along, holding hands. The buildings began to shift after awhile, from faded Soviet blocks, to the elegant, older buildings Yuri associated with central Saint Petersburg. 

When they reached the canals and a bar with a few tables outside in the sun, Victor said, “Can we stop here and get a drink?”

It was still a bit cool to sit outside, but Victor insisted they did anyway and Yuri fiddled with his scarf as Victor settled Makkachin and ordered their drinks.

“I got us beer. It’s the off season, we deserve it.”

“Small ones?”

That got him a really genuine smile from Victor. “Yes, small ones. I don’t think this is the kind of place that appreciated strip teases.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Yuri replied, trying to flirt back and still feeling slightly silly about it. “I’m sure they’d be into you stripping.”

Victor’s eyes got soft and warm and he took Yuri’s hand. “I only care about you being into it.”

“Well…you know I am.”

The drinks arrived and Yuri sipped his, watching Victor’s face. The smile slipped off it and his fingers dragged through the condensation on the glass.

He took a sip and then blurted out, “It’s not her fault you know.”

Yuri paused, his glass half way to his mouth. He couldn’t think of anything to reply so he made a sound encouraging Victor to go on.

“She…well you know my father used to hit her.” And you, Yuri thought, but he didn’t say anything. Just slid his hand over Victor’s.

“I think she has…I can’t remember the English word, when you’re afraid of going outside?”

“Agoraphobia,” Yuri said quietly.

“Yes. But not completely because she does go out, she goes to work and to the shops. Although less now I think, as you can buy so many things online. But I think she only feels comfortable in a few places, and she can’t always make herself go to other ones.”

The condensation on their glasses was starting to pool on the table top now, and Victor drew a finger through it.

“When I was younger, I used to blame her. Why didn’t she come to my competitions? I’d offer to pay when I had enough money, why didn’t she want to see me win at Worlds? It…hurt a lot. I don’t blame her now of course, I understand, but I didn’t when I was a teenager.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Yuri said. Victor’s mouth was twisted, the way it did when he’d made a mistake. “You were really young.”

“I know. That’s not the worst of it to be honest.”

Victor downed the rest of his beer and waved at the waiter to get another.

“The worst of it is every time she looks at me she sees him.”

Yuri just stared at him for a moment. He wanted to just say it was impossible, that of course she didn’t. But he also remembered her silence after the allegations in the press. The way she’d gripped Victor’s arms as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull him close or push him away.

“She’s never said that of course, but I know. We really look like each other and apparently our personalities are similar too.” Victor swallowed and said bitterly, “We’re both too much sometimes.”

“You’re nothing like each other,” Yuri said heavily. 

“I’d never hurt you,” Victor said, meeting Yuri’s eyes for the first time in awhile. “But people often used to point out other things that were the same.”

Yuri squeezed Victor’s hand, feeling completely useless.

“It doesn’t matter really, whether it’s true or not. She…she sees him in me, she always has. And I know she loves me, but that’s always between us. I shouted at her once, I was about fourteen, and I know it’s what teenagers do, but…she looked so scared.” 

Victor gazed out at the canal. “I don’t often get angry. But if I do, I don’t shout.” 

“I…I know.”

“So, he’s there, when we’re together. I know she loves me, but she’s also happy to not see me very often. It’s easier like that.”

His heart aching, Yuri dropped his head and lifted Victor’s hand to his mouth. He kissed the back first and then turned it over, kissing his slim wrist over the veins, and then an open mouthed kiss right in the centre of Victor’s palm. 

He looked back up and Victor was staring right at him with wide blue eyes. Yuri stood up and wrapped Makkachin’s lead round his fist and stroked Victor’s hair out his eyes.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I…I suppose I thought you should know.” Victor looked slightly shocked and Yuri bent to brush their lips together.

“Shall we go home?”

“Yes, yes please.”

When they got back Yuri looked at the apartment anew. At the huge windows, that let in so much light. The pale wood floor, and the chrome kitchen gleaming in the evening sun. The clean lines - so much space to breathe. It made his heart hurt all over again, and he reached up to kiss Victor properly. Trying to get across how much he loved him, how much he was valued and how much he meant to Yuri. 

When he pulled back Victor was looking slightly dazed and Yuri had to kiss him again.

“Why don’t you watch something whilst I get dinner?”

“You don’t mind?”

Another slow kiss and with the sun on his face, and Victor’s hand holding his hip, the other gently cupping his face, Yuri almost changed the plan he had come up with on the way back from the bar. But it was a good plan and he regretfully eased out of Victor’s hands and pressed kisses softly on his cheeks as he pushed him towards the couch.

“Not at all, go and sit down.”

Victor did, curling up with Makkachin, a soft sort of sadness on his face. Yuri stir-fried prawns and vegetables quickly, wanting to get back to the two of them being together as quickly as possible. When the food was ready and Victor shuffled up to the table, Yuri could see the tiredness round his eyes, the defeat in the slump of his shoulders and the loneliness in his face.

After they ate, Yuri ran a bath for Victor. Testing the water with his fingers to get it just the right temperature and pouring in the salts Victor claimed were good for soaking out the aches in muscles and joints.

He looked up to see Victor in the doorway. “For you.”

The corners of Victor’s eyes crinkled up when he smiled and Yuri wanted to kiss them every time.

“You don’t need to look after me Yuri, I’m alright.”

“Maybe I like looking after you sometimes.”

He didn’t actually think Victor was anywhere near alright yet. He walked up to Victor and slid his hands under his sweater, tracing the muscles and Victor hummed slightly.

Yuri slowly peeled off Victor’s clothes. First the sweater, then his t-shirt. He swallowed as he undid Victor’s belt and popped the button. Victor murmured his name as he pulled his zipper down and kissed his neck.

“Are you sure you want me to get in the bath?”

“I’m sure.”

He loved the feeling of Victor’s thighs under his palms. The strength in the hard muscles, the soft skin and the drag of hair. He pushed Victor’s pants and underwear down slowly, before dropping to his knees and helping Victor to step out of them. His face was level with Victor’s cock and he couldn’t help stealing a glance, because it was lovely and starting to flush and he licked his lips without meaning to.

“Yuri…” Victor breathed, cupping his jaw and stroking his finger across his lips.

“Not yet,” Yuri said, shaking his head but smiling. “Get in the bath.”

“Such a tease,” Victor pouted, but he climbed in the bath and sat back with a sigh. “That feels good.”

“Not quite as good as the onsen,” Yuri replied. “But as close as I could get.”

He knelt by the bath, soaked a cloth with water and began to wash Victor’s shoulders. It was more of an excuse to massage them really, to enjoy how sculpted they were and squeeze the back of Victor’s neck, which made his head drop forward with a moan.

It was hard to speak, to give Victor the same sort of compliments he showered on Yuri all the time, poured onto him until he was drenched with them and with the knowledge of how much Victor loved and wanted him. Words like that never came easily to him, the feelings sticking in his throat, but after seeing today and how Victor had felt so smothered and trapped in a place where feelings were unspoken and even seemingly innocuous words could be barbed, he felt it was more important than ever to try.

“You look beautiful when you’re in water.”

He said it faltering over every word and when Victor opened one eye to look at him he felt himself flush.

“So do you, Yuri. You used to look amazing in the onsen, especially at night, with the steam around you. Sometimes I couldn’t quite believe you were real.”

“Well, maybe. When you weren’t stretching my legs into places they shouldn’t be anyway.”

Victor huffed a laugh and Yuri flicked a little bit of water in his face.

“I never thought of the onsen as sexy. It was just where I grew up, but then you arrived.”

“Oh tell me more,” Victor smiled, sliding deeper into the water.

Getting bolder, Yuri dropped the cloth and slid his hand under the water, gliding over Victor’s chest. “I used to be glad we went in straight after skating, my feet hurt enough it stopped any, er, other part of me getting too excited.”

Victor laughed properly then and Yuri smiled, tracing over the muscles of his stomach, catching in the hair that grew down from his navel.

“You made me want to break all the rules.”

“You wouldn’t even let me take a picture!”

Yuri dropped a kiss on Victor’s hand, each of his three fingers. “It would be disrespectful to other guests.”

Victor turned over his hand and Yuri licked over the creases of his palm.

“So, what rules did you want to break with me then?”

“Well….” He loved touching Victor just here, just above the hair and just above his cock. Victor took a deep breath and Yuri felt his excitement building too, and he shifted slightly as he touched the base of Victor’s cock.

“I used to picture you slumped in the water just like this. And I’d reach down…”

He wrapped his hand around Victor’s cock properly and luxuriated the pleasure of slowly rubbing it, feeling it get stiff in his hand.

“You’d have to stay quiet of course, which I learned later you aren’t very good at.”

“You inspire me,” Victor replied, slightly breathlessly. “Do you want me to stay quiet now?”

“No,” Yuri smiled and shook his head. “I want to hear you.”

He moved his hand harder and Victor groaned quietly, “That isn’t a problem.”

There were so many things Yuri could say to Victor, how much he loved watching his face flush during sex, how he loved getting Victor hard and making him come. There was hardly a part of his body he couldn’t compliment, hardly anything that he didn’t want to do. But it was hard to say those things and Yuri worried in this moment it would be shallow. 

“I love you,” he said instead. No less hard, but perhaps the most true and most important thing. Victor turned towards him and pulled himself partly out of the water, leaning across to kiss Yuri. The kiss was awkward, over the rim of the bath, and water splashed up to soak Yuri’s shirt. Victor’s hand in his hair was wet and the steam around them was almost enough to make Yuri sweat.

He didn’t care though, he kept kissing Victor and he kept jerking his hand in the hard rhythm Victor liked, making him moan and gasp against Yuri’s mouth.

“I love you,” he said again and Victor groaned and bit Yuri’s lower lip.

“I’ll always love you, I never want to be away from you.”

“Yuri, oh…please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised. Moving quicker, biting at Victor’s lip, feeling more confident now, he was delighted in the way Victor had sunk into the pleasure, at the way he fell back into the water, eyes fluttering shut, and mouth open as he gasped.

“Yuri, just a bit more…”

“Whatever you need,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss hard kisses against Victor’s neck and cheek and finally his lips.

The water splashed between them and Victor cried out, falling back from Yuri as he came, his hand gripping Yuri’s shoulder hard and spilling into the water.

“Gorgeous,” Yuri told him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Victor opened his eyes slowly and blinked sleepily at Yuri. “That felt wonderful.”

“Good.”

They kissed slowly again, and Victor pulled himself out of the bath. His kisses were sleepy now as he leaned against Yuri and started to shiver.

“Brush your teeth and go to bed,” Yuri said between kisses and draping Victor’s bathrobe over his shoulders.

“What about you?” Victor asked, his hand landing heavily on Yuri’s hip.

Yuri was hard, and he wanted, but it would keep. The tiredness from earlier was still hanging around Victor, although the heaviness had gone, and Yuri suspected the best thing for Victor right now was to go to bed, and sleep the sadness away.

“You could fuck me,” Victor whispered in his ear, and it made Yuri shiver, but then Victor yawned hugely and slumped on him.

“If you’re still awake when I get to bed maybe.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Yuri said, kissing him again and sliding out of the bathroom.

He heard Victor finishing up in the bathroom and he deliberately took awhile sorting out Makkachin and cleaning up in the kitchen. He was still vaguely turned on and it was too early for him to be really tired, but he didn’t want Victor to be alone tonight.

The lights were off in the bedroom and he crept under the covers. He was slightly surprised Victor was awake enough to cuddle up to him and mutter sleepily.

“You might have to wait until tomorrow.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“And the day after that?”

“And the day after that, and the one after that, and all the days…” he stopped for a moment, his heart too full to go on. “All the days, Victor, I’ll be here all the days.”

Victor took a deep breath and Yuri turned in his arms and pulled him closer.

“I love you,” Victor murmured. He drifted into sleep and Yuri pressed a kiss on his forehead, holding him close in the darkness. 

“I love you too.”

 

The end


End file.
